


Swap Vargas

by A_forgotten_cat



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Smoking, Vargas - Freeform, alternative universe, swap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_forgotten_cat/pseuds/A_forgotten_cat
Summary: Welcome to the life of Scriabin Vargas, a man who, for lack of a better description, is a tired diva full of vices. But really, he doesn't need help.Scriabin Vargas will never need help, and even if he did, he would prefer dying before recognizing it.
Relationships: Edgar Vargas/Scriabin Vargas, implied johnny "nny" c./Devi D.?
Kudos: 5





	Swap Vargas

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Vargas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/49492) by [Zarla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarla/pseuds/Zarla). 



> Oops, my hand slipped and i accidently created a whole swap universe lol.
> 
> Songs recommended while reading:
> 
> Primadonna girl- Marina And the Diamonds
> 
> Vices- Mothica (Cmten Remix)
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It was late, _very_ late.

He took a deep breath and removed his mirror glasses. Seeing this way was weird. Too _weird_. He hated this. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, of course. Why couldn’t it all just had been a dream?

He frowned and closed his eyes…his _eye_ , now. This was stupid. He should be in a bar or something instead of laying on his bed. And yet.

_You should sleep. You have to work tomorrow._

And there it was. He had never cared, but for some reason his inner voice was like that lately.

_It’s not like it’ll be a problem._

_Scraibin, this is the fifth job that you have had this year. You can’t keep going on like this._

_And since when does it matter? i don’t care._

_But I do._

_You’re me._

_I’m sorry to break this to you for the sixteenth time, but I’m not you._

There it was again. Was he going insane? No, _no._ He was perfect, he would overcome anything that could make him go insane, _always._

_You’re me. you’re my inner voice, no matter how much I tell myself you’re someone else._

_…hmm. And how are you sure about that_

_Wha-_ He almost couldn’t believe it, what a stupid question. He was sure because he had proof. Of course he had proof. _It’s my brain. What, am I gonna tell myself that a tiny person got inside my mind, or that there’s a parasite inside my brain? ridiculous._

_It’s been two weeks._ The distance in the othe- in his own inner voice was somehow painful to hear. Why was a question Scriabin didn’t wanted to elaborate in. _I have already told you. I got here the same time as you lost your eye._

_He didn’t want to listen to this._

_You remember._ Not a question, a fact. _I’m a collateral effect. But I exist._

_Shut up._

_You have to listen to me soon or later._

_Shut the fuck up._ He put his hands on his ears, like if that would make the voice go away.

_Alright…but go to sleep._

_Ugh._ He didn’t wanted to listen, but his eye was too heavy to keep himself awake.

\-------

He woke up to the sound of his phone’s alarm. Scriabin didn’t remembered ever putting an alarm for…7 am?

_I did that for you. You’re welcome. You should get ready._

You couldn’t be serious. This was starting to get weirder by the second. He got up, with no headache, for a rare change. Obviously, he hated having to work, but he needed to pay a place to live. Dumb society and its dumb rules.

Same old clothes, but he looked good on them. He looked good in everything, after all. Some makeup in the scar. Scriabin took his trench coat and put on his glasses, ignoring the voice in his mind telling him that he forgot breakfast.

Started the car, and there he was going. It was hard to drive with an inner dialogue-monologue.

_You should work on that story you were writing._

_That old thing?_

_Yes. You’ll be happier._

_Like if I ever knew what will make me happier._

_I’m not you. I’m not saying I know, but you should try it._

_Just when he was celebrating the lack of a headache, his inner voice was there to ruin everything._

_What, now you recommend me but you aren’t sure? Having confidence issues, boy? What the hell. Just shut up._

_I can’t. I won’t leave and I cannot stop talking until you start fixing your life, and I fulfill my purpose. And be careful while driving._

He almost crashed with the car in front of him. He quickly went around the car and accelerated while pretending he couldn’t listen to the man screaming obscenities to him. He was tired and hungry and bothered, and he decided to pretend that he believed his inner voice.

_And what is exactly ‘your purpose’?_

_…I don’t know._

_Great! Do you want tea and cookies while we wait for your memory to work, so you can remember you’re a fragment of my mind?_

_I don’t think that is the point anyway._

_Why so afraid of me questioning you?_

_You are at work already. Try parking carefully._

_Oh, yeah, sure, run away. He crashed into a pole. Fuck my life…_

_Language._ The lack of emotion on h- its voice was what bothered him the most.

_Oh fucking please, I’ve said this kinda shit since I’m 10.Im not even actually saying it, I’m just fucking thinking to myself._

_…still. It’s not very eloquent._

_I’m eloquent as fuck, you’re just a pussy._ Scriabin marked his entry hour and put one of the uniform vests on. Teena was nearby carrying some boxes, putting them down to wave at him. ”hey, scri! i see you followed my advice and got early today!” Scriabin passed by her, not even borrowing a look. ”The fuck you care. And don’t call me that”

“oh, you prefer Iabin?”

He lifted one of the boxes, looking around for where could the truck for that specific cargo be. ”Look, I would be more than pleased to tell you all the failures that you commit constantly and how you probably can’t even start comprehending how much better than you and everyone I am, but I’m too sober and tired to go around it all over again.” he finally found it, in the opposite side of where he was. Great. .It was like if they did it on purpose. ”So, listen to me and fucking listen this time, I don’t like nicknames” He started walking to the back of the truck, with Tenna following him with other two boxes. Of course she was gonna take an opportunity to flex, just because she was healthier. Bah, like if being heathy was worth it in any way. He wasn’t considered ‘healthy’, and look at him, extremely handsome. Yeah, who needed that. She’s just showing something useless. He put the box inside, apparently these were the last three boxes. The two of them closed it, and it immediately drove off.

“The next comes in about half an hour. Wanna go help inside with the packing?” Tenna signed with her thumb to the back, while two co-workers who were ear dropping keep making her signs to stop. Scraibin looked at them, then back at her with his arms crossed. ”Like I wanna spend time there. I’m gonna go smoke, and _i guess _I can go into the store part once it opens.”  
She nodded and searched around her pocket, getting a tiny skeleton plush out, extending it to Scriabin with a smile. ”You know what you need? A talk w-“ “nag, nag, nag. Gimme that.” he snatched the plush out of her hand, walking out to a dead end that guided to a door that nobody used. Something about an old fire extinguish opening. He sat down in a step in front of it, putting the toy next to him and lighting a cigarette.

_She’s a nice friend for how little she knows you._

_Ugh. She’s just pretending to be nice because she thinks I’m weak, and to show others that she has some kind of amazing fucking morality or some shit like that. There´s hidden intentions, like with everyone else. Nobody does nice things just because ‘they’re nice’. I thought I had already learnt that. And as a note to myself, she’s not my friend._

_But she is trying to be your friend. I don’t see the second intention._

_He passed a hand through his hair. Could you stop fucking pretending you’re a separated entity from me?_

_I am._

_No! you’re not real! you’re not a person!_

_…to you. I’m real, but not to you._

_No? you’re not a person, You’re part of my imagination. You don’t exist, you were never born, never lived, never had a childhood, a family, a past or even a name._

The voice stayed silent for a moment. Was it hurt? No. You needed to be alive to be hurt.

_I could have a name._

_What? I’m not gonna give you a name,I’m not gonna feed whatever it is that is making my brain make my inner voice insist on something like this._

_Give me a name._

_No._

_Give me a name._

_I said no._

_GIVE ME A NAME._

_NO. YOU’RE NOT GONNA GET ONE._ Before he noticed, he had popped the plush’s head, some of the stuffing flying with the wind. His cigarette had fell on his thigh, making a tiny hole in his pants and burning the skin underneath before it put itself out. Fantastic. He quickly flicked whatever of it was left, and went to pick up the head. _Nice, what am I supposed to do with this now?_ He frowned, trying to think on what lie would be convincing. At least his inner voice was silent enough for him to think of one.

Tenna meanwhile poked her head out from the distance, just looking like a blob of color due to the distance. ”HEY,THE STORE IS OPEN ALREADY”. He panicked a little, not sure of why, and put the headless stuffed skeleton and its ‘skull’ in his pocket very fast, trying to make none of the pieces be visible. ”IM GOING, IM GOING”.

Well, now it was two who had lost their heads. He walked fast, dismissing whatever Tenna told him when he entered. He saw some worker putting bread in the shelfs, so he pushing the man telling that he would do it, quickly distracting himself. _you know what? fuck. It’s not my problem._

_It is your problem, thought._

_It is your fault, thought!_ He stopped angrily shoving the loafs of bread to look at the kid who was slightly tucking his pants.

“Excuse me, sir” the kid voice was really soft, with a big patched teddy bear hugged in his other little arm and his big eyes focused on Scriabin’s face. Scriabin was frowning at first, but he slowly softened his expression. Can’t look so angry in front of the costumers, anyway. ”Could you give me one of the loafs?”

He got baffled for a second, but then handed the kid the loaf he had in his hand. ”...eh, sure. Where are your parents, kid?” He was just curious. It was better to give stuff that could get ruined if it fell in the floor to an adult. ”oh, they’re at home. They forgot to fill the fridge again, so im doing it” Scriabin frowned again, this time a little worried. ”It’s okay. Oh? What is it shmee?” He put the bread down carefully, then took the teddy bear with both hands to look at it better. Like pretending it was talking to him. ”Really? Oh, okay.” The kid then put the bear under his arm again, and then reached for his pocket and got out a very basic sewing kit, offering it to Scriabin.” Shmee said you need this. I usually use it to repair him, but if anything happens I can fix him at home. He also says we’ll meet again, so is okay if you borrow it for a while.” There was a little sense of curiosity and wariness in the back of his mind.

Scriabin took it slowly without much thought, a bit confused. There was some sort of uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind, but somehow it didn’t really seemed to come from him.”…uh, thank you?” The kid smiled and nodded. ”What’s your name, mister? I’m Todd” Scriabin went back to stocking. This child was…weird. You weren’t supposed to talk to strangers like that. ”Scriabin” Todd’s eyes shined up a little with excitement. ”Like the one from Zeitgeist? That’s cool!” He shivered a bit at the mention of the movie. He quickly dismissed it. It was normal, his name was the same, and a lot of people said that he looked similar to character even. It was a normal reaction, so he should have a normal reaction in response.”…yeah”

Todd took the bread again, and started walking while waving “Alright, goodbye Mr. Scriabin!”

“goodbye?” Really, a weird kid. But still, the interaction made him smile a little.

_Hm, strange…and somehow, interesting._ Scriabin frowned a little at the voice, but kept working. What? His inner voice stayed silent a few seconds, only giving a _nothing_ as its only signal that it was even there for quite some time.

__________

It was almost time to go. Somehow he had managed to finish all the things he was supposed to do early. Another rare change. His inner voice congrat him about it, which ruined it a bit. Noneless, he was almost finish sewing the toy’s head. The stiches were big and slumpy, but he could just duck the question and try to convince Tenna that had always been there. Of course he could. And making the ending knot, he cut the leftover thread and put everything back in the pocket sized box. His fingers stinged a little from all the poking.

“Hey, Tenna” said was just taking her things to go, but stopped to look back. He tossed the plush to her, and she catched it ankwardly.

“Oh, thanks” She looked at it, and scriabin was already making numbers to leave the room as silently as possible. ”Did spooky lose his head again?” Oh no. The goddamn toy has a name. They always get angrier about bullshit when their stuff has names. He was getting ready to come on top of the heated argument coming, but Tenna just smiled a little. ”You did a good job repairing him”

Okay, today was really getting stranger by the second. Scriabin crossed his arms and frowned. ”Yeah, yeah. I knew you were going to bother me if I gave it to you like it was. Not that it is my fucking problem, but it was an opportunity to show more of how many skills I have” He gave a smug smile and put a hand in his chest proudly, thought the feeling of superiority wasn’t really there. ”okay, goodbye now”

And without even bothering to answer, he turned around, put on his coat and left.

_________

Well, that was his last bottle. He was extremely drunk already, but it didn’t make it less bothering. He should had bought some alcohol in the way home.

It didn’t matter, he still had cigarettes. His lighter was still in his coat and he was too lazy to go and get it, but he was sure his old one was in the closet. He started tapping with his hand in the tallest shelf, trying to make out what was what. In the silence, it was a pretty loud sound when a book slipped and fell in the floor. His lighter was with it. Convenient. 

He took both things, because why the fuck not, and sat on his bed, getting a half way used box of cigarettes out of the nightstand. While lighting one, he checked the book. It wasn’t even an actual book, just a copy he made as a teenager in the printer of the public library while nobody was watching and then he put together himself with staples and tape: The Masque of The Red Death. He remember it being his favorite book, back when it was all he did. Just reading, and having dumb illusions of writing something nobody else had ever seen. Something that would break the rules, be controversial and beautiful. As he had said himself before, dumb, reachable illusions. 

_I want a name._

_Ugh, this again?_

_Give me a name. That’s all._ He was enjoying being out of his senses too much to discuss.

_Fine, I guess._ He looked at the book again, passing his eye over the author’s name. _Used to be my favorite author…anyway, how about edgar? will you let me alone then?_

_…I…Edgar…_

_Yeah, yeah. Leave the weird alien shit. I want to enjoy being in the clouds while I can. So shut the fuck up._ And that was the last of his thoughts. But in between the lack of anything his vices where providing him, there was someone else’s warm and happiness.

He was sinking back into the mindlessness and the silence, when the phone startled him.

He picked it up annoyed. ”Who the hell is it?”

There was a silence. What this a damn prank call? After a few seconds, a familiar voice. ”…hello”

**Author's Note:**

> ohohoho,who could it be?
> 
> Anyway,thanks again to JackMalvado69 and SpicyAgent8 for proof reading this.


End file.
